


Second Dances

by cutelittlekitty



Series: Dances [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood Stories, Gardening, M/M, Pining, Private Investigator!Gabriel, Stanford, first date?, stripper!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 16:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19009741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutelittlekitty/pseuds/cutelittlekitty
Summary: Gabriel has offered to pay Sam for one dance per night if he’ll stop stripping at a club to put himself through college.  You’d think it would be easier dancing for an audience of one, right?  Yeah, not so much.





	Second Dances

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Gabriel Monthly Challenge using the dialogue prompt:  
> “We’ve got shovels, gloves, a tarp. Everything we need to get this garden started.”  
> “All we need now is a store employee who doesn’t think you’re a murderer.”  
> This is a sequel to ‘Can I Have This Dance?’, but can be read as a standalone.
> 
> Thanks to [Syrum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum) for checking it over for me :D

Sam stands in front of the door of room 420, hand raised to knock as he shuffles nervously from foot to foot. He can do this. It’s no different from what he’s been doing every night since his scholarship was cut. Except this is a smaller audience. If a single person can even be called an audience. But this is Gabe, Castiel’s brother. He wouldn’t do anything weird or inappropriate, right? Cas would kill him. Probably right after Dean did. Yeah, he said he wants Sam, but he’s promised he won’t touch. Not until Sam asks him to. Which isn’t going to happen. 

“You know, knocking works better when you actually make contact with the door,” Gabe quips as he opens the door.

Blushing, Sam drops his hand along with his gaze. “I was just about to.”

“I was watching through the peephole. You’ve been standing there for ten minutes.” Gabriel steps back, welcoming Sam into his hotel room. 

Sam deals with the awkward moment by ignoring it. “I, uh, wasn’t sure what you were expecting, so… I brought a few different outfits. Mostly things from halloween, and then a dressed up look. I’m wearing the dressed down. I have more of a selection at the club, but those are theirs, not mine.” The room is a suite and Sam sets the oversized duffel he had slung over a shoulder onto one of the plush chairs positioned across from the couch.

“To tell you the truth, Samshine, you look mouth-watering in whatever you wear. Though, as a huge Doctor Sexy fan, the doctor getup you had on the other night was hot as hell.” Gabe grins at Sam after closing the door, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sam blushes, not sure what to say. Avoiding a reply altogether, he opts for opening his bag and pulling out clothing choices, laying each costume on the couch so Gabe can see the selection.

“Ooh, is that A New Hope Luke Skywalker Costume?” Gabe asks before Sam even gets the fourth outfit out.

Sam rubs a hand over the back of his neck, gaze dropping to the floor again. “Err, yeah. I did mention most of these were halloween costumes, right? I mean, I know it’s not very sexy, but, like I said, my wardrobe selection at home is-”

“Hey, no worries, Samwalker. Luke is plenty sexy. Wear that one tonight. But you don’t have to dress up every time. Jeans and a T-shirt or whatever’s comfortable is fine.”

“You sure?” Sam asks after scrutinizing Gabriel for several moments.

“Sure I’m sure. Wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.”

“Well, it’s your money. If you ever do have a specific outfit request, just text me ahead of time, okay?” Sam says as he packs up the other two outfits.

“Will do. You can change in the ensuite. Don’t worry, I won’t peek.” Gabe grins, giving Sam a friendly wink.

“Hey, you’re allowed to look, as long as you don’t touch,” Sam tosses back with a nervous laugh as he picks up the costume and heads for the bathroom.

“If I’m not allowed to touch, I’d rather not see you without clothes. You want a beer?”

“Yeah, one wouldn’t hurt.” Sam closes the bathroom door and begins changing, thinking about how different it is to dance for one person instead of a crowd, especially in said person’s hotel room. He’s already been through all those concerns, but apparently they haven’t gotten the memo because they keep creeping back into his thoughts. Best to finish up quickly and get it over with. Then he won’t have to think about it ‘til tomorrow night, when he’ll have to dance for Gabe all over again.

When Sam exits the bathroom, Gabe hands him an open bottle of beer, then turns the second armchair around to face the most spacious area of the suite. “No rush, just, whenever you’re ready. And whatever music you want’s fine. If you need anything to help you feel more comfortable let me know.”

Sam takes a swig of his beer then begins scrolling through the music on his phone. None of his saved music strikes his fancy tonight, so he hits youtube and searches for star wars music, just because. There happens to be a compilation just over seventeen minutes long. Though he’s not sure how the music will sound, he decides to give it a try anyway. If Gabe likes Star Wars enough to want Sam dressed like Luke Skywalker he should appreciate the theme music. 

“I think I’m ready,” Sam says, pausing the video at the beginning then hooking a speaker to his phone and turning the volume up. “Any special requests? Do you want strictly sexy, like a regular private dance, or more performance style, like what I’d do on stage for a show?”

“Show’s good, but whichever you prefer is fine with me.”

“Show it is.” Sam grins. The music he has queued would have been harder to do a strictly sexy dance to. With a performance dance, he can add humor in. It’s more casual, and he has a feeling Gabe will like it better than a strip tease minus the stripping.

Leaning back in his chair, Gabe crosses an ankle over his knee, arms relaxed on the armrest. Only the glint of anticipation in his eye belies the relaxed air he projects.

“I haven’t rehearsed, or even heard this music, so if you don’t like it, I can try something different.” Sam smiles nervously at Gabe’s nod, then hits play. 

Three seconds in, he regrets his music choice. What was he thinking? This is not dancing music, in any way shape or form. Even when the iconic orchestral piece shifts to the cantina song, Sam just can’t get a handle on any kind of groove. Closing his eyes, he pushes on anyway, switching through different dance styles as the medley moves through different songs. He can hear Gabe’s chuckles and feels his cheeks heating. 

About three minutes in, he remembers he’s dressed as Luke. Pulling out the plastic lightsaber tucked into his belt, he swings it around, extending it to its full length as he switches on the light inside it. Rather than dancing, he changes to acting out parts of the movie and finally finds his flow. After that, the rest of the ‘dance’ is easy, pretend sword fights and dramatic uses of force -though they have no actual effect. 

Before he realizes, the music is done and he collapses his lightsaber, bowing his head as he tucks it back into his belt. Gabe bursts into applause and Sam moves to turn the music off. “Sorry, I know that wasn’t-”

“Nonsense,” Gabe counters. “That was awesome. The coiled strength, the lithe muscles, the controlled movements; once you hit your stride, you gave a great performance. And even the awkward bit at the beginning was endearing. I loved it.”

Sam knows he’s blushing and turns away to tuck his phone and speaker back into his coat that lays over the foot of the bed.

“Have you eaten yet? We can order room service.” Gabe suggests.

Back still turned to Gabe, Sam swallows nervously as he debates his reply. He’s done his job; he should go. Especially knowing Gabe is attracted to him. Sam doesn’t want to lead him on or give him false hope. On the other hand, it’s just dinner. And he’s being paid as much as he’d make working all night; it doesn’t feel right to dance for fifteen minutes and then leave.

“There are a few things about your job we still need to discuss,” Gabe adds after a minute of silence.

That means it’s still work, and makes the decision easier. “Yeah, okay. Do you want to order while I change?”

“Sure thing, Sammich. What kind of food are you in the mood for? Any allergies or things you don’t like?”

“No allergies and I’ll eat pretty much anything, though I prefer to avoid red meat. A chicken Salad with poppyseed dressing sounds good.”

“Got it. Go get changed, and may the force be with you.”

Sam finally turns toward him, just in time to see his face light up with a huge grin. It sets something fluttering in Sam’s chest, seeing his eventual brother-in-law’s brother so happy. At least, that’s the explanation he gives himself for the feeling as he turns and flees into the bathroom to change.

 

*****

 

“They call this a chicken salad?” Sam asks, eyes wide as he takes in the heaping bowl in front of him.

“Yes? Well, I may have added a few things,” Gabe admits.

“A _few_ things?” Sam repeats pointedly.

“Well, you know, black olives, mushrooms, mozzarella cheese, extra chicken, extra carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, bell peppers-” 

“Gabe, is there even any lettuce in this?”

The shorter man laughs, handing him an empty dinner plate. “Of course there is. That’s why I had them put it in a bigger bowl. I figured we could split it, along with the spaghetti and garlic bread.”

“Huh. That actually sounds pretty good. I think I’m a bit hungrier than I realized.”

They move the dishes into the middle of the table then fill their plates, Sam covering his salad with poppyseed dressing, Gabe using sweet onion. A few bites into the meal, Gabe speaks up. “So, Sam… one of the things I wanted to discuss was your work at the club.”

“What about it?” Sam asks after swallowing his first bite of salad.

“You remember one of the conditions of this arrangement was that you quit stripping, right?”

“Yes…” Sam asked, arching an eyebrow curiously.

“So why haven’t you quit yet?” Gabe asked.

“Have you been spying on me?”

“Investigating, Samwise. There’s a difference. I have a license.”

“They’re both invasions of privacy. I get why you investigated Dean and I when he and Cas started dating, but that doesn’t give you the right to keep snooping once you knew we weren’t a threat to him. That’s called stalking, Gabe.”

“How else am I supposed to make sure you abide by the terms of the agreement?”

“Maybe try trusting me?”

“I don’t know you well enough to trust you, which brings us back to the original question. Why haven’t you quit the club yet?”

Huffing out a breath of air, Sam takes a moment to try to calm his anger. “You said I had to stop stripping and I did. But they’re short servers, so I’m helping them out a few days a week until they can hire someone.”

“Samalam, that’s even worse. Instead of being up on stage where the bouncers can keep an eye out for you and customers aren’t allowed to touch, you’ll be walking the floor, scantily clad, with both men and women grabbing your ass every table you pass. It’s not safe.” Gabe crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair.

“Look, when I quit dancing, they bumped the bartender up to the stage and shifted a server up to bartending which leaves them short a server. I promised I’d fill in until they could get someone hired and I won’t go back on my word. Besides, who cares about an innocent grope here or there? It’s not like anyone’s gonna jump me and rape me.” Sam frowns, the discussion peppering his food with distaste. He pushes his half-finished dinner away.

Gabe sighs, defensiveness draining as he leans forward and pushes Sam’s food back to him. “Come on, don’t be that way. I’m just worried about you. I know you can take care of yourself, but I also know I’ve taken down guys your size and bigger. Just because most of the customers are smaller than you doesn’t mean they can’t drug you or follow you to your car and zap you with a stun gun.”

“Are you saying you’ve drugged people or shot them with a stun gun?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t need to, Samakin. I’m a master in aikido. You’re missing the point though. It’s dangerous to go from being on stage and out of reach to walking among the tables.”

“Gabe, you barely even know me,” Sam protests.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t worry. Besides, you’re Cassie’s beau’s bro. If anything happened to you, it’d hurt Dean, which would hurt Cassie, which would hurt me. So it’s in my own best interest to want you safe,” Gabe reasons. 

“Look, like I said, I’m just waiting tables until they hire someone in. A couple, few weeks at most. Is that all you wanted to talk about? I should get going; I still have a few chapters to read before bed.” Sam gets up and heads to the chair to grab his duffle so he can go.

“Come on, Samshine, don’t leave like that. At least finish your dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.” Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Sam heads for the door and Gabriel hurries to block it.

“Sam, please. I won’t say another word about it, scout’s honor. At least stay long enough for me to box up your leftovers? It’s good food and you’re a student; take it with you. I don’t want you to leave mad.” Gabe gives Sam a hangdog look that no one could resist and it works.

“Fine, fine, just stop with the puppy eyes. I’m not mad anymore, okay? And I’ll take the food, but I really do have reading to get to.”

 

*****

 

“Gabe, what are you doing here?” Sam hisses under his breath as he arrives at the bar to get drinks for his first table.

“Mixing drinks. What’s it look like I’m doing?” Gabe replies, pulling the order slip from Sam’s lax fingers, giving it a quick glance, then starting on mixing the cocktails.

“I can see that. I meant _why_ are you here?” Sam clarifies, eyes narrowed.

“Relax, kiddo. I’m just picking up some extra money and working the rust off my bartending skills. If it happens to let me keep an eye on you as well, that’s just icing on the cake.”

“... You’re a PI, what do you need bartending skills for?”

“Come on, Sam, use that big beautiful brain of yours. What reason could there be for me to be a bartender from time to time?”

“... People talk to bartenders?”

“Ding ding ding, give the boy a prize,” Gabe praises with a grin as he puts the drinks on Sam’s tray. “Now stop flirting and get back to work,” he adds with an exaggerated wink.

“... I wasn’t- I’m not-” Sam gives up trying to make a flustered reply. Instead he grabs his tray and turns away quickly to hide the blush staining his cheeks.

 _What the hell is up with him?_ Sam wonders as he smiles and hands the drinks around to the table of women. _He’s turning into some kind of creepy stalker. Or is he always that way when he ‘wants’ someone? If he wasn’t Cas’s brother, I never would have even considered… well, okay, I at least would have thought twice about accepting his offer._ A hand on his ass pulls him out of his thoughts and he takes a quick step back, out of groping range, fixing the ladies with a strained smile. “Sorry, girls, the entertainment’s up on the stage, and does not include me. Enjoy your drinks.”

Sam hurries off, pissed that Gabe’s predictions are already coming true, but determined not to be bothered. The fact that the shorter man is watching him from behind the bar with a raised eyebrow and shit-eating grin doesn’t serve to help his mood. Stifling a sigh, he heads to his next table to take their drink orders.

 

*****

 

“Hey, Gabe…” Sam says one night as he’s tucking his phone and speaker back into his coat on the bed of the hotel suite as usual.

“Yeah, Sam?” Gabe replies from behind the room service menu he’s perusing. He’s asked Sam to stay for dinner two or three nights a week for the past two weeks, and tonight is one of those nights.

“Weren’t you only supposed to be in town for a bit to visit your brother?”

“Yep. That, and take care of some business.”

“You’ve been here two weeks,” Sam points out.

“And? The business is taking a while.” Gabe shrugs.

“Your business doesn’t happen to be me, does it?” Sam asks nervously.

Gabe laughs. “If it was, I wouldn’t call that business, I’d call it pleasure.”

Sam blushes, but otherwise ignores the comment. “So what is it that’s taking so long?” 

“In that much of a hurry to get rid of me? You’ll still be dancing for me, right?”

“... how am I supposed to do that after you go back to…” Sam realizes he’s never really asked where Gabe is from.

“Lebanon Kansas,” Gabe supplies.

“Really?” Sam’s eyes go wide as he sits at the table across from Gabe.

“Yeah, I know, I don’t come off as a bible belt country boy, right?” Gabe laughs.

“No. I mean, yeah, you don’t fit the stereotype, but the surprise was because Dean and I are from Lawrence Kansas.”

Gabe chuckles. “Yeah, I kinda already knew that Samshine.”

“Oh, right. You investigated us. Wait, I thought you said you and Cas come from money. What kind of family with money settles in the middle of America’s bible belt heartland, hundreds of miles from a major city?”.

“The same kind of family that names all their kids after angels and wants them brought up in a small town community where people stopped accepting new ideas about a hundred years ago and the schools teach students that progress is a four letter word. Too bad even in bumfuck nowhere the internet is still a thing. All Mother and Father’s careful brainwashing undone with a few clicks of a mouse.”

“Wow. I bet they were thrilled.”

“Most of us were smart enough to play our roles, so they kinda don’t know. Though hiding everything you are gets a bit tiring after a while. It’s nice to take a break here.”

“Speaking of, you didn’t answer my original question. What happens when you go back home?”

Gabe shrugs. “I did just mention we have internet there.” He wiggles his eyebrows and grins.

“You want me to send you videos of me dancing?” Sam asks, brows furrowing.

“Nah. Facetime. No recording, no future blackmail vids, just you, me, and our computer screens.”

“Jeez, Gabe, it’s a struggle just doing it in person. I can’t imagine trying to dance for you over the internet.” Sam blushes, looking down at his fidgeting hands.

“Really? You don’t think it’d be easier if I weren’t right in the room with you?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s harder dancing for you fully clothed than it ever was dancing for a crowd of strangers mostly naked. But you’re always so calm and, I don’t know, focused? That it helps me get into it. Somehow, I don’t think it’d be the same across the internet.”

Gabe smirks. “It’s _harder_ when you dance for me? Good to know.”

Sam’s blush deepens. “Not _that_ kind of harder.”

“Just teasing you, Samson. Come on, let’s order dinner.”

 

*****

 

As the screen of his laptop hums to life, Sam types in his password and frowns as he waits for it to boot up. The end of the semester is looming and he has several research papers due soon along with upcoming finals he needs to study for. At least he has more time now that he’s done working at the club. Four nights ago had been his last shift.. Not so coincidentally it had been Gabe’s last night too. They’d hired in both a new server and a professional bartender, having been pleased with how drink sales had gone up with Gabe behind the bar.

Part of Sam had been expecting Gabe to leave the next day, but he said he was waiting on paperwork to go through. Last night he’d said he was finally done and would start heading back at 5am this morning. If the day went according to plan, he should already be at his room at the Motel 6 in Evanston Wyoming, after a bit over 12 hours of driving, not counting gas, food, and bathroom stops. It’s eight o’clock now so even with allowing 2-3 hours for stops along the way Gabe should be settled in. Sam doesn’t want to wait too late because it’s an hour later there and Gabe’s been driving all day with another 11 hours of driving to look forward to tomorrow. Sam has no idea why he’d driven instead of flying; when he’d asked, Gabe had said something about not liking rental cars so he drove so he’d have his own car -which Sam still hasn’t seen- while he was here. It hadn’t sounded like a lie, just like there might be more to it.

The computer beeps, pulling Sam from his thoughts and he hits the flashing icon to open the video chat. Gabe’s face stares at him from the screen and Sam grins at the lag making his usually smooth movements appear jerky.

“Hey, Gabe, I was just about to call.”

Gabe laughs. “If your first video chat is anything like your first time knocking at my door, or not knocking, as it were, I would’ve been asleep by the time your finger stopped hovering over the button.”

“Hey, it was only a few minutes,” Sam replies, laughing too.

“Yeah, but that’s only because _I_ opened the door. Who knows how long it would have been if I had waited for you to knock.”

“You’re lagging pretty bad,” Sam comments as Gabe sets his laptop beside him on the bed for a minute, tilting the screen so he remains in camera as he gets up, pulls the covers down, then settles back onto the bed, pulling the bedding back up to cover the red silk boxers Sam had gotten a clear view of. 

“Sorry Samshine. Free wifi is great. Sharing bandwidth with everyone else taking advantage of said wifi? Not so much.” Gabe fluffs the pillows behind him, sitting back against them before pulling the laptop back onto his thighs and adjusting the camera. He’s wearing a slightly dingy white t-shirt with a green four-leaf clover in the front, ‘Kiss me, I might be Irish’ printed in black letters over the clover.

“Nice pyjamas,” Sam teases, and Gabe waggles his eyebrows.

“Hey, I prefer to sleep in the nude, but wasn’t sure you could handle the sight of my bare chest.”

“Pretty sure I could handle your bare chest, but I doubt you could handle me handling it,” Sam quips back with a chuckle, then claps a hand over his mouth when his brain catches up with his words. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to flirt, it just slipped out.”

“Hey, never apologize for flirting with me. You can do that all you want.”

“But I don’t want you to think-”

“All I’m thinking is that I love talking with you. In fact, with this crappy connection, maybe for tonight you can just talk to me instead of dancing?”

“That’s not what you’re pa-”

“When you break it down, it is. You’re just entertaining me for fifteen to twenty minutes. I’m perfectly happy for a change-up in the method of entertainment,” Gabe insists, giving Sam one of his don’t-argue-with-me-I’m-always-right looks.

Sam caves. “Okay, fine. But I don’t know what to talk about.”

“How about you tell me a story?”

“I don’t know any stories.” Sam frowns.

“Doesn’t have to be a story story. You can make it something that happened when you were growing up, or something from college, whatever,” Gabe suggests.

“You want me to tell you something personal?”

“Doesn’t have to be something personal about you, just something you know first-hand. Got any dirt on your brother? I promise I won’t not tell Cassie.”

“Well, if you promise you- Wait, did you say you won’t _not_ tell Cas?” 

Gabe laughs. “Well, he’s passed along stories Dean’s told him about you. If I have a story or two to repay him with then-”

“Hold it! Cas told you stories about me? Like what?” Sam demands.

“Relax, Samson, nothing bad or top-secret. Just little things like the time you won the spelling bee at school and got mad at Dean when he used your trophy playing stick ball and broke it. And you were so ticked you stopped talking to him until he bought you a ‘World’s Best Brother’ trophy.”

“Well I had to forgive him. He used his own hard-earned money for it, even though it set him back on getting the gamestation he’d been saving up for.”

“Or the time when you were in the school talent show together and did the Abbott and Costello ‘Who’s on First’ routine but forgot the end so you kept winding up back at the beginning over and over until the principal came onstage and helped.”

“That was embarrassing but hilarious. Did Dean tell Cas about the time we were dressed as superheros and jumped off the shed?”

“Ooh, I haven’t heard that one!” Gabe says, eyes lighting up as he leans closer to the screen eagerly.

“Okay, so get this. I’m five years old. Dean was nine. And he says ‘hey, let’s play superheros,’ so we both get our pyjamas on, his blue with the big red S in the middle, mine grey with the batman symbol, and we tie towels? Blankets? I think I had my blanket and Dean used a towel, and we tied them on as capes, right?”

Nodding, Gabe smiles at the way Sam gets animated telling his story.

“So we’re outside, zooming around the yard chasing imaginary bad guys and there’s a trash can right beside the shed. Back then, we had metal trash cans, so the lid was plenty strong enough to hold a couple little kids. Dean climbs up and it’s high enough for him to pull himself up on top of the shed. Being the copycat little brother I was, I had to follow him. I wasn’t quite tall enough to get on the can myself, so I pulled my Big Wheel over and stood on the seat to get myself onto the trash can. Dean had to help pull me up onto the shed though; I was only five, right?”

Gabe chuckles, encouraging Sam to continue.

“Okay, so then we’re both standing on top of the shed, and I gotta say, to a five year old, the eight foot drop felt like we were looking down into the Grand Canyon or something. And then Dean’s like ‘hey, watch this Sammy,’ and he just runs and jumps right off the edge, arms outstretched like he’s flying. I didn’t see him land from where I was standing, so I had no idea he’d gotten his feet under him before he hit the ground. But I figured, anything Dean could do I could too, right?”

Cracking up, Gabe shakes his head. “Oh, no, this isn’t going to end well, is it?”

Sam laughs too. “Well, I’m still alive, so it could’ve been worse? But yeah, I ran and jumped with all my might, and flew through the air, arms out in front like Superman. And stayed that way until the ground decided to get up close and personal. My right arm hit first and kinda dug into the dirt, stopping the arm as my body kept trying to go forward. Not a good combination. I wound up on the handlebars of Dean’s bike, Dean’s shirt tying my right arm to my chest, and hanging on with my left arm for dear life. And it hurt like hell but the whole way, Dean was calling me an idiot and telling me everyone knows Batman can’t fly and that’s why Superman was so much better, and he kept me completely distracted from the pain until we got to the hospital and the staff freaked out.”

“I bet they were wondering where your parents were?” Gabe asks through his chuckling at Sam’s telling of the story, though he doubts it was funny at the time.

“Yeah. My arm turned out to be broken and they had to call Mom at her work. Dad was supposed to be there with us but he’d left us alone ‘just for a few minutes while he ran to the store’. No cell phones back then, so there was no way to get a hold of him until he got home, already four beers into the case he’d bought. Boy, was Mom _pissed_. And Dad was pissed at Dean for having gotten him in trouble, even though it was really all my fault.” Sam’s gaze grows distant as the memories sour, lost in regret and self-recrimination for something he’d really had no control over.

“Hey, that _wasn’t your fault,_ Sam. Your dad should have been there watching you like he was supposed to,” Gabe insists.

“I know that now, but back then… we’d promised to be good while he was gone and we weren’t. And Mom threw Dad out of the house for the first time because of it. Well, that and him going after Dean. It just… If I hadn’t jumped off the shed like an idiot…”

“Dean did it first, and he was old enough to know better; you weren’t. And like I said, none of that was your fault. It sounds like your dad was dealing with problems of his own and if anything was at fault, it was probably that.” Gabe reaches toward the screen like he wants to touch Sam, comfort him, but the internet doesn’t work that way so his hand pulls back, fisting as it rests on his thigh and he sighs.

“Yeah, I know that now. Dad hurt his back and right knee at work catching a car that fell off the jack until someone could get support back under it. He saved Rufus’s life -he was under the car working on the exhaust at the time- but it put an end to his working days. I don’t think Dad was ever the same after that. Mom got a job working dispatch at the police station and that, combined with Dad’s disability payments from the garage and later from the state, was enough to keep us housed and fed and clothed, but Dad had been raised pretty traditionally. You know how it was in the 50s; men bring home the bacon, women cook and clean and look after the kids while still managing to be dressed up and beautiful when the man gets home from work. Bullshit gender role stereotyping that pushed Dad into a bottle and then into an early grave, taking Mom with him. Shit. Sorry, this was just supposed to be a fun story, not a trip down haunted memory lane.” Sam’s large hands cover his face completely. He’s not crying; not yet at least. But these wounds never fully healed and if he keeps scratching at the scabs there will definitely be tears. Grose blotchy ones. Better to avoid that.

“Hey, no worries, Sam. I want very much to learn more about you and you’re more than welcome to open up to me about anything. Though I’d rather I was there in person. You look like you could use a hug.”

Sam gave a short huff, hands rubbing before coming away from his face. “Yeah, I really could. I’ve never talked about this with anyone, not even Dean. I don’t even know why it’s all coming out now.”

“It’s the magic of the internet, Sam. Gives an impression of distance that makes it easier to open up to people, especially ones you don’t know that well. Which is weird, and possibly dangerous, but there you go.

“You did it again.”

“Did what?”

“You called me ‘Sam’.”

“Well yeah, that’s your name, isn’t it, Samshine?”

Sam laughs. “Yeah, but you’ve never called me it before tonight. And see, now you’re back to the nicknames. Didn’t you say you always call people by nicknames?”

Gabe laughs. “I did and I do. Maybe you’re just special, Sam?”

Blushing, Sam wonders why his breath seems to catch in his chest at the thought of being special to Gabe. He should quip back; Gabe was obviously joking, but when he opens his mouth no words are forthcoming so he licks his lips then snaps his jaw closed.

“Holy crap, it’s after ten. I should let you get back to your studying. Besides, I still have a long day of driving to get up early for again.” Gabe says, brushing past the awkward moment for Sam, perhaps having realized the earlier heavy conversation had made it harder for him to employ his usual method of avoidance.

“Yeah, it’s a quarter after nine here; I definitely need to get back to my notes. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure thing Samshine. Have a good night. Make sure to get some sleep too; that’s just as important as studying when it comes to tests.”

“Will do. Sleep well, Gabe.” Sam reaches awkwardly for the mouse and they both give a small wave as Sam ends the call and closes out the program.

 

*****

 

After that first face chat they spend an hour every night talking or Sam telling stories of things that happened when he and Dean were kids or in his law classes or study groups. Three weeks later, Sam starts suggesting Gabe stop paying him. His classes are finished (and aced), and he isn’t taking summer courses so Sam has time to get a proper job and save up some money for next semester. Gabe, of course, refuses.

They have several back and forths about it until Gabe finally says he knows someone who needs help starting a garden and will pay well. Sam rolls his eyes but if it means Gabe will stop paying him for basically just being his friend, he’ll take it. Gabe arranges things and tells Sam the address to be at Monday evening, so they can work on the garden after the heat of the day has passed. Then Gabe says he has some things to take care of so they aren’t able to video chat over the weekend, though Gabe calls Sam every night anyway, apparently just to hear his voice for a few minutes.

Monday evening at six o’clock sharp, Sam knocks on the door of the large house at the address Gabe gave him. Belatedly, he realises he never even got the name of Gabe’s friend, but it’s a moot point when the door opens to reveal Gabe himself standing there.

“So you _do_ know how to knock,” Gabe teases, stepping back to let Sam into the house.

“G-Gabe? I thought you were back home in Kansas?” Sam stammers, shifting from one foot to the other as he wonders if he should take off his shoes. Gabe puts his own on, so Sam figures he’s planning on leaving once he’s introduced Sam to his friend. Craning his neck to glance around the sparsely furnished home, Sam doesn’t see or hear anyone else.

“I was. And now I’m back home here.” Gabe grins, straightening up and grabbing Sam’s arm, tugging him outside with him. “Mind if we take your car? Mine’s not really good for hauling supplies.”

“Supplies? What? What are you-” Sam stammers again as Gabe pulls him back toward his black Dodge Charger parked in the driveway.

“Keep up, Sam. We gotta get supplies for the garden. You said you’d help, right?” Gabe says, waiting at the passenger door for Sam to unlock it.

“Wait, is this… You said I was helping with your friend’s garden.” Sam frowns, though he obediently unlocks the car then heads around to the driver’s side.

“Who says I can’t be friends with myself? I happen to think I’m pretty good company,” Gabe replies when Sam slides behind the wheel. Hooking his seatbelt, he turns a full wattage grin on Sam and wiggles his eyebrows.

“I should say something like ‘that makes one of us’, but I happen to agree. So this is really your house then?” Sam asks as he turns the key, looking behind the car carefully before backing onto the street.

“Yeah. That’s why I was here so long last time. I was looking for the right place.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to surprise you. Besides, I kind of thought you might accuse me of stalking.”

Sam laughs. “I probably would have. But I’m guessing you knew you’d be house hunting before you came to visit your brother?”

“Yeah. I managed to get my investigator’s license for California about six weeks ago, so I’m moving my business here.”

“By the way, where did you want to go to get supplies?” Sam asks as he reaches the end of the street and isn’t sure which way to turn.

“Not sure Samshine. You’re the one who’s been living here a few years, right?”

Chuckling, Sam shakes his head. “Yeah, but it’s not like I’ve ever needed garden supplies. I know where the Home Depot is though, and they have a garden center.” Sam turns left onto the main street once there’s an opening. They could have waited fifteen minutes and avoided the heavy traffic, but it’s not like Sam isn’t used to driving in it.

“You mean you didn’t look up where to get garden supplies when you knew you were going to be helping someone with a garden?” Gabe teases.

“Hey, I figured ‘your friend’ would have already gotten the needed supplies,” Sam counters, making the air quotes audible without moving his hands from the steering wheel.

“I told you they’d never had a garden before and were clueless.”

“You’re admitting to being clueless?” Sam asks, arching an eyebrow, though he keeps his eyes on the road.

“When it comes to gardening? Yeah, not a clue. I’m looking forward to correcting that, though. I was always interested in learning, but Mom and Dad would’ve skinned me alive if they ever caught me ‘fraternizing with the help’. Not to mention they would have fired the gardener on the spot and I didn’t want that.”

“You had a gardener? No, scratch that. Of course you did. It’s easy to forget you and Cas grew up rich. Why didn’t you learn when you moved out of your parents’ place?”

Gabe raises an eyebrow at Sam. “That’s what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, now, but I meant wherever you were living before.”

“I was living with my parents.” Gabe sits back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and looking out the window at the city passing by.

“You what? I thought you were Cas’s _older_ brother?”

“I am,” Gabe replies through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, sore subject? I mean, it’s not like there’s anything wrong with-”

“There’s _everything_ wrong with a thirty-two year old living with his parents. But I didn’t have a choice. After our older brother Luke came out as pan -he was always more rebellious and a bigger risk-taker- they insisted the rest of us live at home until we got married, other than while we were away for college. It’s ridiculous and demeaning and I hate that I’m so addicted to having money that I put up with it. Cassie didn’t like it either, that’s why he chose to go to Stanford Medical and get his doctorate, and then kept adding master’s degrees. If he never leaves college, he never has to choose between going back to Mom and Dad or losing his inheritance.” Gabe’s rant lasted until they pulled into a parking spot and Sam quickly threw the car in park and unfastened his seatbelt so he could lean over and pull Gabe into a hug.

“It’s not a fair choice for any of you to have to make. A parent’s love is supposed to be unconditional. And there’s nothing wrong at all with not knowing how to live without something you’ve had your whole life. Besides, you’re out on your own now, right?”

“Not completely,” Gabe replies with a frown as he returns the hug, burying his face against Sam’s neck. “I’ve got enough of my own money saved up to get by since I’ve been investing almost everything I’ve earned, but I’m here on the pretense of ‘keeping an eye on Cassie’. They were reluctant but eventually allowed me to move. So I’m not cut off. They’ll still be depositing my ‘allowance’ every month.”

“But you said you can get by without it, right?” Sam asks, confused.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put it to good use.”

“Wait, that’s not what you’re using to pay me, is it? It is, isn’t it?” Sam frowns.

“Believe me, Sam, you need it way more than my parents do. And it’s kind of satisfying using their money to help put their future son-in-law -or not, since they’ll definitely disown me at that point- through law school.” Gabe pulls back enough to give Sam a tremulous grin.

“Future son-in-law? That’s Dean, not me.”

“Did you forget, Samshine? I told you when we met, I always get what I want.”

“I didn’t forget, but I thought you had.” Sam blushes, pulling away. Gabe looks sad for a second before his face morphs back into his usual grin.

“No way would I ever forget that.”

“But… you haven’t tried to… like, make any moves or anything. Hell, you haven’t even flirted much.”

“Samsquatch, I want to climb you like a tree, wrap my legs around your waist and ride your cock until your knees buckle. But-” he adds, before Sam can voice the objection on the tip of his tongue, “that’s not all I want. I want you. All of you. Your body, your brains, your heart, your dreams… I knew from the moment I met you that you’re the one for me. So even though I can’t wait to get physical with you, I’m happy just spending time together so you can find your way to the same realization.”

“Gabe, that’s not-”

“Don’t say anything about it right now. I know you’re not there yet and you don’t think you’ll ever be on the same page as me, but I have every confidence you’ll get there. Just don’t discard the idea outright. For now, we’re friends, right?” Sam nods. “And I’m happy with that. I’ll never push you for more than you want to give, Sam. Just don’t close any doors, okay?”

Sighing, Sam pats Gabe’s shoulder awkwardly. “I… I’m not sure if that’s ever going to happen. To be honest, I’ve never been attracted to a guy. At least, not physically or romantically or whatever. It isn’t fair for you to wait around for something that may never happen.”

“I gathered as much. You never having had the hots for a guy, I mean. But as far as attraction goes, I’m not attracted to a guy, I’m attracted to _you_. Er, that’s not to say that you aren’t a guy of course. I just meant I would be attracted to you regardless of gender. I get that you’ll never be attracted to me because I’m a guy, but I also know that you may develop an attraction to me _even though_ I’m a guy. Does that make sense?”

“Not really.”

“Okie doke, lemme try asking this; if I was a woman, would you be attracted to me?”

Sam blushes, turning away.

“See? You would. Because you already like hanging out with me, having dinners, talking, those kinds of things, right?”

“Yeah, but I like doing those things with Dean and Cas and other friends too.”

“So if a female friend from school had two tickets to go to the Museum of American Heritage next Sunday, and I had two tickets for the same day, who would you go with?” Gabe presses.

“Well… you, but that’s because I don’t think any of the women I know from Stanford would be interested in the museum. If they had tickets it would only be because someone gave them to them.”

“But you think I’d be interested in the museum?” Gabe quips.

“I think you can make it interesting for yourself whether it’s something you’d normally be up for or not. And I think going with you would be fun.” Sam grins.

Gabe chuckles. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at making everything fun. Even shopping for garden supplies.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess we did come here for a reason. One that didn’t involve long heart to hearts sitting in an overly warm car in the parking lot,” Sam replies with a laugh as he belatedly turns the ignition off.

“Yeah, let’s go, Sammoose. Lots to buy.” 

Once inside, Sam grabs a cart and follows as Gabe leads the way through the unfamiliar store, letting the signs guide him to the garden section. Over an hour and a half later their cart is overflowing and Sam is wondering if it’s all going to fit in his car.

Sam looks over the items in the cart, checking them off against his mental list. “We’ve got shovels, gloves, a tarp. Everything we need to get this garden started.”

“All we need now is a store employee who doesn’t think you’re a murderer.” Gabe smirks, poking through the items to make sure they haven’t forgotten anything. “Did we get… those little hand shovel things?”

“Trowels, yeah. We have three in case one gets lost. And three hand rakes along with a tilling rake, some outdoor soil and mulch to go over top, this ridiculous plastic flamingo thing-”

“Hey, it’s functional! It’ll keep the pests away,” Gabe protests.

“It’ll keep the _everything_ away,” Sam jokes.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Gabe shoves Sam’s shoulder. “You sure we shouldn’t get the plants yet?”

“Well, you said you don’t even know if you want just flowers or fruits and vegetables too. I think we need to get the garden tilled and ready first. Then we can map out what you want to put where. Besides, we’ve been here forever. We probably won’t even be able to start tilling tonight.” Sam musses Gabe’s hair and heads for the checkouts.

“Hey, not the hair!” Gabe exclaims as he trots after him.

 

*****

 

Almost two weeks later, they’ve got flower beds around the front porch and a small vegetable garden in the backyard with romaine lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, green onions, bell peppers, strawberries, and raspberries. Of course Gabe is most interested in the berries and takes extra care of them. They’ve added planters of mint and dill weed to attract beneficial insects and put low fences around the outside of the garden for spiders to build webs on. Though not high enough to protect against a determined animal, the fences do discourage critters from going in, and spraying the plants with environmentally safe, soapy water helps keep them from being nibbled on. Gabe’s pink flamingo is among the vegetables too, the creak of its wings when the wind blows scaring off birds. He’d wanted to put it in the flowerbeds around the porch, but Sam had convinced him it was needed among the food bearing plants. Everything is planted and secured, so on Sunday Gabe rewards Sam for a job well done.

Eleven a.m. finds them at the Museum of American Heritage. Either his hypothetical question two weeks prior hadn’t been so hypothetical, or it gave him ideas. It doesn’t matter which though; what’s important is that they spend the entire afternoon wandering through the museum, looking at the exhibits on inventions and technology. 

Sam enjoys taking his time reading the histories and significance posted by the various displays. Gabe enjoys distracting Sam from doing so, then grabbing his hand and tugging him on to the next exhibit, though never before Sam’s done. It’s fun and easy and the time flies by. When a voice over the loudspeaker system announces that it’s quarter to five and the museum will be closing soon, Sam blinks, hardly able to believe they’ve been there six hours. They can’t possibly have spent so long; the museum isn’t really that big. And yet, Sam’s phone agrees with the speaker’s tinny voice, and so does Gabe’s.

“Wow, Samshine, I can’t believe we were here so long,” Gabe comments as he buys Sam a keychain of an old, victorian era telephone on the way out.

“Me either. This was really fun though. Thanks for bringing me.”

“My pleasure. Literally,” Gabe adds with a chuckle that turns into a full belly laugh when Sam’s Stomach growls. “How about some dinner? We could pick up a pizza or some subs, and eat in front of the tv at home. Maybe make a movie night of it?”

“Either sounds great; I’m starving! But if we’re watching movies, I hope you got a new couch.” Sam replies with a grin.

Gabe is already ordering on his phone. “Spoil sport. The love seat’s comfortable. But don’t worry, the new, moose-sized sofa arrived last night. It’s been a while since we’ve had pizza, so I’m going with that. Don’t worry, I’m getting a veggie supreme for you and a hawaiian for me, that way you won’t have to pick off the pineapple. Though I don’t get why someone who likes veggies as much as you do wouldn’t like pineapple.”

“Hey, I like pineapple, just not on pizza,” Sam protests as Gabe opens the passenger door. He folds his lanky frame into the yellow ‘69 corvette convertible as Gabe heads over to the driver’s side. “By the way, your car’s great and all, but from now on, let’s take mine,” he adds as Gabe gets in.

“Why, you don’t like my driving?”

“I don’t like my knees crushing my ribcage.”

“Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind, especially if you’re okay with me driving.”

“Wait, are we still talking about cars?” Sam asks, frowning.

“What else would we be talking about?” Gabe counters, eyebrows jumping playfully.

Sam just rolls his eyes. They pick up the pizzas and head back to Gabe’s.

“So, when are you going to finish moving in?” Sam teases as he grabs paper plates and a roll of paper towels.

“Hey, I’m getting there. This is a lot of house to fill. And it’s not like I brought a lot with me.”

“Why’d you get such a big house, anyway?”

“I plan on being here for a long time, so I wanted somewhere that would work for whatever the future brings. That means a fully upgraded kitchen with an island big enough to seat four, spacious living room, formal dining room, finished basement for a game room, big master bedroom, space for two offices, a guest room, spare room in case a kid or two’s in the cards. It never hurts to be prepared, right?”

“Jesus, Gabe. You may need this much room in the future, but for now it’s wasted space and extra cleaning. Why didn’t you just get a starter home?”

Gabe shrugs. “No use paying on something that I’ll just have to sell later. Besides, I could always get a roommate or two for now.”

“You’re going to have strangers living in your house?”

“Nah, it’d have to be someone I know and get along with. Someone fun and kind and helpful around the house who’s willing to put up with me when I’m being a pain in the ass, or tell me when I’m being an idiot. Know anyone like that?” Gabe asks as he puts a couple slices of pizza onto his plate and hands Sam the remote.

“Gabe, you’re not suggesting _I_ move in with you, are you?”

“Why not? You know we get along and it’ll help with college if you don’t have to pay for lodging, right? Plus we’re closer to campus here than at your place. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Oh my god, Gabe, you had this planned from the start, didn’t you?” Sam startles as though waking from a dream and gazes around at the tv that’s still waiting for them to pick a movie, their pizza boxes sitting on the coffee table and drinks beside them. He hadn’t even thought twice when Gabe suggested they ‘go home’ for food and a movie. Neither had he paid any attention to how many times Gabe grabbed and held his hand at the Museum or realized how close they were getting over the past two weeks. Slamming his paper plate on top of his pizza box -and wishing it was something breakable- Sam jumps up and turns toward the door.

“Sam, wait! Hear me out,” Gabe pleads, hand shooting out to wrap fingers in a vice-like grip around Sam’s wrist. “I did _not_ have anything planned, although, yes, the fact that this place wasn’t far from your college did cross my mind when I bought it. I _like_ being friends with you so, yeah, I thought it’d be nice to be between your house and university. At the time, I had planned to spend a lot of time with you. Still do, by the way. And sure, I had hoped, and still do, that you would eventually move in here with me. But when I bought the house, I was expecting it to be in a year or three, once you fall for me. And full honesty? Yeah, I’m not giving up on that hope.” Gabe pauses for breath, making sure he has Sam’s full attention. 

“That said, I hadn’t been planning to ask you to move in as just a roommate, and certainly not tonight. But once you started in about the house being too big for just me, the idea of having anyone other than you living here just wasn’t appealing. So no, I did _not_ plan this from the beginning. And my only ulterior motive in the offer for you to move in is that we get to spend more time together, which we both enjoy. Oh, and you having less financial worries, because I really don’t want you to go back to stripping. As hot as your body is, it’s not even close to being your most attractive attribute, and the longer you spend being treated as though one small part of you is the only thing you are, the more you start to treat or think of yourself that way too. I don’t ever want that for you; it’s a very hard thing to unlearn.”

“Gabe, I like hanging out with you. I always have fun when we’re together, and I like you. But as a friend. Moving in together wouldn’t be a good idea. I only have one more year of school, then once I pass the bar I’ll be working full time with an actual wage. You don’t have to worry about me going back to stripping. If I have to, I’ll get a student loan. So stop being so concerned my finances already.”

“A student loan? Damn, Sam, that’s worse than borrowing money from the mob.”

“Lots of people get student loans. What’s wrong with it?”

“If something happens and you can’t pay them back, they steal your tax refunds and garnish your wages and the interest is ridiculous. I’d rather you let me loan you the money and let me help you with living expenses. Why make things hard on yourself? I want to help; why won’t you let me?”

“Because I’m not your kept boy, Gabe and I don’t like feeling that way. It’s much worse than stripping ever made me feel.”

“Woah, hold up there, Sam. Please, sit back down. Look at me.” Gabe tugs lightly at Sam’s wrist, though his hold loosens.

Letting himself sink back down onto the couch, Sam sighs and manages to meet Gabe’s gaze.

“That’s not what I wanted at all, and I’d never, _ever_ think of you as a possession or expect something from you in return for anything I do. Shit, Sam, if that’s how you felt, why didn’t you say something?”

“I did. I asked you to stop paying me many times, even insisted.”

“And I did stop paying you for dancing when you weren’t doing any actual dancing. You never said the money itself was a problem, just that you didn’t want to get paid for being my friend. Although, you were still entertaining me, which I felt filled the spirit of the agreement. But that’s why I switched to having you help me with the garden, and figured next you could help me get the house in order. I told you before Sam, I think your education is an excellent investment. What’s wrong with wanting to help with it?”

“What’s wrong is that it’s not an investment. You want me to just accept money from you without paying it back. And that makes me feel cheap.”

“I’ll stop, Sam, I swear. I won’t try to help you with money anymore, and if you ever feel like I’m doing that, kick my ass and tell me to knock it off, okay? I just want you to be happy. As for living together, the offer is open in perpetuity, but I won’t talk about it again unless you bring it up. Okay? Forgive me, Samshine?”

Sam looks at Gabe suspiciously for several long moments, but eventually sighs and relents. “You’re forgiven.”

“Sweet! Can we do movie night now?”

“Well, we’ve already got the pizza. I guess we might as well.” Sam picks his plate back up and puts a couple slices on it, then tosses the remote back to Gabe who makes a frantic grab to catch it, then raises an eyebrow at Sam. “You pick,” Sam says with a shrug as he folds both legs under him on the couch and settles back against the arm, as far from Gabe as he can get.

Gabe gives Sam a tight smile that’s nothing like his usual ones, then flips to a _How It’s Made_ marathon on the science channel.

“You don’t have to put this on just for me,” Sam says, knowing it’s not Gabe’s favorite show.

“Hey, it’s interesting. Besides, it fits with the theme of today,” Gabe replies, setting the remote down.

“How about an hour of this, then we can watch _Mythbusters_ for an hour and switch between the two?”

“Sounds like a good compromise.” Gabe’s grin this time is more genuine as they both dig into their pizza while learning how bottle caps are made.

 

*****

 

“Hey, Gabe, so get this!” Sam calls as he bursts into the house with two cases of beer. Tonight is definitely a night for celebration. “My scholarship has been renewed!”

“Really?” Gabe replies incredulously, drying his hands on the towel over his shoulder as he rushes out from behind the kitchen island to take one of the cases from Sam and put it into the refrigerator. “That’s great, Sam! So you’ll be able to spend your last year focusing on classes and studying for the bar?”

“Yeah, the scholarship fully covers my tuition and books. Dean insists on giving me enough to cover living expenses, so I’m all set.” Sam grins as he sets his case of beer on the counter next to the fridge.

“That’s awesome news! I take it the beer means we’re celebrating?” 

“Definitely. If you’re up for it.”

“Hells yeah! Let’s light this candle!” Gabe replies, pulling a couple beers from the fridge and handing one to Sam. They each twist their caps off and click bottle necks, then take a swig.

“Something smells good,” Sam comments.

“Crap! The burgers!” Gabe exclaims, running out the back door. 

Sam follows, chuckling. Nothing smells burned so he’s sure dinner’s not ruined, but he peeks over Gabe’s shoulder anyway as the shorter man flips the burgers, turning them so the grill lines criss cross. Looks like he was right; everything’s perfectly browned.

“Whew! That was a close one. Thought we might have to order in.” Gabe turns a dazzling grin on Sam, who’s still looking over his shoulder, and it’s striking enough that he has to step back to catch his breath.

“Even burned, I’d choose your home-grilled burgers over take-out any time,” Sam replies, voice just a bit off as he struggles to breathe normally. What the hell even was that? Gabe was just being his normal self, why had his happy smile hit Sam so hard?

“Aww, Samshine, you’re making me blush,” Gabe jokes, though his cheeks really do look a bit flushed.

“What can I help with?” Sam asks as he turns to look over the garden, mostly to avoid staring at such a cute Gabe.

“I know what’s going through that moose brain of yours. Go ahead and make up a salad. I’ll even eat a bit.” 

“Hey, you can’t fool me. I know you like salad,” Sam tosses over his shoulder as he starts going through the garden gathering ripe veggies. He gets the salad ready in record time then heads back out to the garden for raspberries. Gabe loves them and Sam loves to make sure he satisfies his sweet tooth with something that has actual nutrition in it. Sam’s just finished setting their places at the island when Gabe comes in with a large plate piled with burgers and silver foil packets which contain herb-roasted red skin potatoes, one of Sam’s favorites.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Gabe comments with a grin as he sets the plate on the island.

They enjoy a fantastic dinner, chatting about Gabe’s PI work and Sam’s upcoming semester, joking about when they’re going to wind up uncles, because they’re both sure Dean is going to want a kid or two, and Cas is going to want to make Dean happy. 

After dinner they put on a movie then talk over it as Sam drinks his way through beer after beer without even noticing. Gabe notices though. He notices about the time Sam has inched close enough for their shins to be resting against each other, both sitting face to face with one leg resting on the couch, the other on the floor.

“Hey, Samalam, you might wanna slow down on those beers. How many have you had now?”

Sam scoffs as he gets up to put his empty bottle in the sink. “Beer is pretty much water for our family. I’ve barely had enough to even tell I’ve been drinking. Hey, you ready for another?” Sam asks as he opens the fridge and puts the second case in, pulling the nearly empty first case out. 

“I think I’ve had enough for now. Grab me a Dr. Pepper?”

“Sure.” Sam removes the two remaining beers from the first case and puts one back on the shelf before grabbing Gabe’s soda. Closing the fridge, he breaks down the cardboard for recycling, twists off the cap from his beer, and heads back to the living room. The couch bounces slightly as he flops back down onto it, snuggling right up against Gabe as he hands over his drink.

“Sam, unless you stop drinking right now and spend the next several hours sobering up, there’s no way I can let you drive home,” Gabe warns.

“So I’ll stay here.” Sam shrugs then takes a long pull on his beer.

Gabe groans. “Sam, we haven’t gotten around to setting up the guest room. You’re going to get all cramped trying to sleep on the couch.”

“No I’m not. You’ve got a california king sized bed.”

“You’re going to kick me out of my own bedroom?” Gabe grumbles, shaking his head. 

The motion causes Gabe’s soft hair to brush against Sam’s forehead, since he’s somehow wound up leaning his head on his friend’s shoulder. He takes another swig of beer. “Of course not. It’s a big bed; we can share.”

The heavy sigh Gabe lets out seems to deflate him and Sam is struck by how much smaller he seems. Of course Gabe has always been shorter than Sam, but that doesn’t mean he’s short. And he’s always had a presence that made him seem equal to Sam’s height.

“Sam, think. I can’t share a bed with you and you know why.”

Draining the rest of his beer, Sam leans forward to set the empty bottle on the table, then turns back to Gabe. “You’re not gonna go back to that wanting me thing, are you? We’ve been hanging out for months now and you’ve never even tried to make a move.”

“I told you Sam, I want all of you. I’m not going to make a move on you until I know you’re on board with everything. Not just screwing, not just being friends, everything. I want us to be friends and lovers and partners and permanent. So I’ll wait until-”

Deciding he’s had quite enough of watching those mesmerizing lips moving, Sam surges forward to capture them, possess them, as his arms go around the smaller man, pressing him into the corner of the couch. Gabe stiffens for a second, then melts and Sam swallows his sweet, needy whimpers as he subconsciously rocks against him.

Gabe scoots them both down a bit so he’s lying flat and hitches his knees over Sam’s hips as lips part and tongues tangle. He trembles beneath Sam, fingers curled tightly over his shoulders as though they want to pull him closer or push him away and, unable to choose a course of action, they wind up doing neither.

Sam loses track of time as they kiss, vague nuances tugging at the edges of his beer-addled consciousness. Things like how Gabe’s stubble feels against his own, something he’s never experienced before. Or how much softer Gabe’s lips are than he expected. How odd it is that he’d had any expectations of what Gabe’s lips would feel like at all. And other things, like how firm the body beneath him is, muscles and planes and no soft curves. But still attractive in a way that surprises Sam so much that even the growing hardness rubbing against his stomach through their clothes can’t detract from it. In fact, he finds the sensation rather arousing.

“You really do want me,” Sam mumbles between breaths as he grinds inelegantly against Gabe. The answering moan is too sexy to be legal and has Sam wishing there was far less clothing between them. But as he pulls Gabe’s shirt loose and slips a hand beneath, the moan changes to a squeak and Sam’s arms are suddenly empty.

“Hells yeah I want you, Sam. But not like this,” Gabe replies from across the room.

It takes Sam a minute to figure out why he’s staring at an empty couch cushion beneath him but once his brain catches up, he turns to look at Gabe. “Gabe? What’re you talkin ‘bout? We were both enjoying that, right? Why’d you run away?”

“Believe me Sam, it’s the very last thing I wanted to do. But you’re drunk. I can’t let you do something you’ll regret once you sober up. No way am I going to risk what we could become when you’re ready over a few moments of physical bliss,” Gabe replies, shaking his head. He’s pressed against the wall next to the hallway and poised to flee.

“A few moments? Gabe, you wound me. ‘M pretty sure I could last at least five minutes. Maybe even six,” Sam replies, moving to rest his arms over the back of the couch and lay his chin on top as he tries to focus a bleary gaze on Gabe. His words are slurred, but only a bit. And sure, his mind’s moving a bit slow, fuzzy in that heavily buzzed kind of way, but he’s not drunk. At least, he’s pretty sure he’s not.

“The point is, it’s not going to happen. Not tonight, at least. Hell, you probably won’t even remember any of this in the morning. But if you do, think about it then, work through whatever your feelings are, and then we can talk. Because I sure as hell want to continue this. But only when you’re sober and willing. For now, you need to drink some water and go to bed. Alone. You can sleep in my bed, I’ll stay out here.” Gabe inches around the room as he talks, leaving the hallway clear for Sam. That’s not his only reason for moving though; he grabs Sam’s car keys, and then his own for good measure, and tucks them into his pocket. 

He’s obviously worried Sam’s poor judgement will extend to driving while intoxicated, but no way in hell would Sam ever do that. No matter how drunk he is, the memory of Dean’s face after he identified their parents’ bodies will always keep him from getting behind the wheel. 

Sam groans, part of him wanting to rush over and pin Gabe against the wall, continue what they were doing. But using that kind of force isn’t in his nature either. Sam would never. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to start anything, but I’m glad I did. And I’m not as drunk as you think I am. But I’ll sleep it off and we can talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, Sam. Sure.” It’s obvious Gabe doesn’t think Sam will even remember this in the morning. Apparently Gabe doesn’t know him as well as he thinks he does.

Getting shakily to his feet, Sam heads down the hallway, looking back just once to see Gabe slumped in relief. “Goodnight, Gabe,” he calls softly as he goes into Gabe’s bedroom, fingers ghosting over his lips as he tries to fix the heady sensation of Gabe’s mouth against his own firmly in his memory.

 

*****

 

Sam wakes with a groan to a pounding headache in the morning. He should have drunk some water before crawling into bed. Fully clothed. Why is he fully- Oh. Memories from last night come back in a rush and Sam’s first instinct is to go find Gabe and get back to what they were doing. But that’s not what he needs to do. He needs to think about why it happened and what that means. Because Sam has never consciously even considered the thought of him and Gabe ever actually being together. They’re friends.

Even so, Sam has known from the start that Gabe wants more than friendship. He wasn’t drunk last night either; at least, not as drunk as Gabe thought he was. Sam remembers every bit of what happened and can’t find a scrap of regret over it. Well, maybe one. He regrets that it ended. But he’s glad Gabe ran away when he did, because he doesn’t want Gabe to have any doubts about his willingness. And the fact that Gabe stopped him even though they were both on board and wanting more is hotter than anything they would have managed had they gone further. It illustrates how serious Gabe is about wanting more and Sam realizes he wants that too. He’s just been so focused on not wanting to hurt him or lead him on that he hasn’t let himself see what Gabe has been nurturing between them. Hasn’t felt the seed Gabe planted sprout or grow. Didn’t even know there was anything there until last night when it was suddenly in full bloom and right before his eyes.

The quiet click of the door unlatching pulls Sam from his thoughts. He freezes, watching as Gabe slips silently into the room, a glass of water in one hand and a couple of pills in the other. Eyes fixed on the floor, watching for anything that might trip him up or make noise, Gabe doesn’t look at Sam until he’s set the water and painkillers on the nightstand. When he finds Sam upright in bed, their eyes meeting, he jumps.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, just thought you might need…” he says softly, morning voice a bit rough. He trails off, gesturing vaguely to the things he just set down.

“I was already awake,” Sam replies, taking the pills and water in hand then scooting over, making room for Gabe to sit.

After looking back and forth between Sam and the empty spot several times, Gabe shrugs and sits, watching as Sam swallows the pills and drains the water. He takes the empty glass and sets it back on the table. “How are you feeling?”

“My head’s throbbing a bit, but that will go away soon enough. How are _you_ feeling? You drank almost as much as I did.”

“Nah, even though I only stopped on your last beer, you were drinking faster than me. I think I had two beers for every three of yours. I’m all for celebrating, but you got pretty sloshed.” Gabe gives Sam a weak grin and wink.

“Gabe, I wasn’t as gone as you think I was.”

“Crap. Does that mean you remember?” Gabe asks, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth in the most endearing manner.

“Yeah, Gabe, I remember. S-”

“Sorry, Sam. I didn’t- I mean, I’ll understand if you never want to speak to me again.”

Sam blinks at Gabe. “What are you apologizing for? I’m the one who kissed you.”

“Yeah, but you were drunk and I should have stopped you sooner, before it got even close to… Hell, I should have stopped you immediately. I never should have let my desires get the better of me.”

Sam just stares for several moments, jaw hanging. “Maybe you were more drunk than you think, because you were kind of pinned. Besides, I think I would have been insulted if you’d pulled away when it was just kissing.”

“But I was taking advantage of you,” Gabe protests.

“Pretty sure that’s the other way around. Either way, we’re both sober now.”

“Yep, sober and clear. I won’t let my desire get the better of me again Sam, I promise.”

“Well that’d be a stupid promise to make,” Sam replies with a frown.

“What? Why?”

“Because I _like_ your desire and I _want_ it to get the better of you.” Sam turns to face Gabe fully, placing a hand gently on his cheek and feeling the soft prickle of stubble.

“Y-you what?” Gabe stammers, tensing up.

“What? Didn’t you say you always get what you want and that you want me? Why are you surprised?”

“Get what I… Sam, if you’re just curious or having misplaced guilt over last night…”

“Gabe, I’ve been awake for a while, thinking. And my conclusion is that I want you too. In the same ways you want me, not just physically or as a friend. Sure the alcohol lowered my inhibitions last night, but it didn’t change how I feel about you, just removed the blinders I had on. I’ve always been straight, so the thought that I could be attracted to a guy never entered my mind. But I liked kissing you last night. Hell, I _loved_ it. And… I want more.”

“... Oh. Sam, are you sure? ‘Cause I gotta warn you, I don’t want just a bit of making out, or even hot and heavy sex. I want all of you. I want you living here, waking up beside each other in this bed every morning, having breakfast together, kisses goodbye when we leave for the day, coming home and making dinner together, snuggling on the couch, taking turns on who picks what we watch and then not watching anyway ‘cause we’re too wrapped up in each other. Samshine, I want to build a life together with you. So if you only want more kissing, then you’re not ready yet. We can take this as slow as necessary to make sure we’re both on the same page with what we want.” Gabe looks like taking things slow is the last thing he wants, but there’s also determination in his eyes saying that’s what he’ll do if it means getting a lifetime with Sam.

Sam can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles up. “Gabe, you’ve made clear what you want more than enough times. I want that too. You’ve become such a big part of my life in the past few months that I can’t imagine going back to a life without you. I trust your judgement, and I trust your commitment, and I want a life with you.”

“If you’re sure… when do you want to move in?” Gabe replies with a grin.

With another laugh, Sam says, “I’ll start bringing things over tomorrow. My lease is up this month anyway. Just one more question…”

“What’s that, Sam?”

“Can I kiss you?” Sam asks, thumb stroking softly over Gabe’s cheek.

“As much as you want,” Gabe replies.

Sam closes in slowly, hand sliding into Gabe’s hair as he presses him back into the pillows and swallows his soft moans. New as it is, Sam feels like he could spend a lifetime doing this. And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> just an update, I’ve finished the bang projects that were keeping me busy and the first one posts in a month (promo is already out on tumblr and I’m so excited for it!!). So i went and signed up for another bang and two different season 15 projects, meaning still not a lot of time for working on heavenly body or not the same, but i do plan on trying to get more stories added to them eventually. I’ll still be trying to post something every week, though I’m considering moving my posting day back to Thursday.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments, questions, corrections and suggestions always welcomed and encouraged!


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